002 ¶ [text ; video ; action]
safdklk;sdfkjn;--
[A cluster of illegible text comes into view. Nothing of it seems to hold reason, nothing of it seems to hold any sense. It is as if the owner of the device is either pressing buttons in a fit of spontaneity or in a moment of rage is continusiously slamming the poor piece of technology against the nearest object. Likely the latter of the two, a certain assassin is finding that the item he has been offered is not only confusing but has a new title and that is 'witchcraft box'.
A few more hits, a few more curses and the video flickers on. You cannot see his face, or much of it at least, only hear a distinct grumble in most severe annoyance. Perhaps some ruffling then snap, one of the mini-buttons located on the edge of the device goes flying off.]
. . .
[Success, and he'll have another. Occupied, the realization can soon be made that the individual behind the screen is bent on opening up this thing and finding out what rests inside.
The loss of a loved one can bring about moments of strife, yet despite bitterness beyond all measure there is a period of grief then life continues. You take away an arm and there can be reason. Yet you place something like this within a hand unknowing of the times, and your asking for trouble.
[ooc; any reply in any form is fine! Action if you wanna stop by--the arm that was so fleshy and dangling during his last post is gone and he's a bitter 12th century Syrian hating on the NEXUS. You can find him holed up in the infirmary where he has been recovering and not letting anyone or anything touch him after he regained his consciousness/sanity because what the hell is that shit anyway? What happened to the good old fashion way of removing a limb? And no--he does not want your prosthetic.]
[A cluster of illegible text comes into view. Nothing of it seems to hold reason, nothing of it seems to hold any sense. It is as if the owner of the device is either pressing buttons in a fit of spontaneity or in a moment of rage is continusiously slamming the poor piece of technology against the nearest object. Likely the latter of the two, a certain assassin is finding that the item he has been offered is not only confusing but has a new title and that is 'witchcraft box'.
A few more hits, a few more curses and the video flickers on. You cannot see his face, or much of it at least, only hear a distinct grumble in most severe annoyance. Perhaps some ruffling then snap, one of the mini-buttons located on the edge of the device goes flying off.]
. . .
[Success, and he'll have another. Occupied, the realization can soon be made that the individual behind the screen is bent on opening up this thing and finding out what rests inside.
The loss of a loved one can bring about moments of strife, yet despite bitterness beyond all measure there is a period of grief then life continues. You take away an arm and there can be reason. Yet you place something like this within a hand unknowing of the times, and your asking for trouble.
[ooc; any reply in any form is fine! Action if you wanna stop by--the arm that was so fleshy and dangling during his last post is gone and he's a bitter 12th century Syrian hating on the NEXUS. You can find him holed up in the infirmary where he has been recovering and not letting anyone or anything touch him after he regained his consciousness/sanity because what the hell is that shit anyway? What happened to the good old fashion way of removing a limb? And no--he does not want your prosthetic.]